The Day After Hell
by TheMezzinator
Summary: Tony and Ziva begin to reconnect. follow up to Square One and Partners Trust


The Day After Hell

Follow-up to _Square One_ and _Partners Trust_

A/N: This series of stories is one of the more emotionally complex I've written. As such, I've decided to skip over Tony's weekend long cold turkey session. I tried to write it but it was just too hard to do. Suffice it to say, it was an eye-opening experience for Ziva

* * *

Tony didn't know which woke him up first: the pounding headache or his partner's familiar snoring. His whole body ached from what he remembered being a serious bout of alcohol withdrawal. He quickly noted a few facts. First, the bedsheets were drenched in sweat and stunk mightily. Second, he was only wearing boxers (which were also soaking wet). Lastly, Ziva lie just on the other side of the bed and she was wearing one of his t-shirts(!) and boxers(!!). He struggled to sit up but his body didn't want to comply causing him to sink back into the bed.

The motion woke Ziva, who instantly moved her hand from under the pillow and jammed her Sig pistol under his chin. "What?" she said, still in a dream state. Quick as lightning, her eyes flew open and she assessed her surroundings and situation. "Oh, good morning," she said, lowering the gun.

"Please tell me the safety is on," Tony demanded through gritted teeth.

_Click_. "It is now," Ziva smirked. She placed the gun back under the pillow and sat up in the bed. His side was, as she'd expected, soaking wet. "How do you feel?" she asked, pressing her hand to his forehead to take his temperature.

"Like the fourth day of a three day binge," Tony replied sarcastically. "I ache in places that aren't supposed to ache."

"Serves you right," Ziva said somberly. "You really had me worried there for a while."

"That bad?" he asked, shaking his head as she nodded in reply. "Sorry. I guess it's a good thing you were here, after all."

"Indeed."

Tony winced as he looked out at the bright sunshine streaming in from the bedroom window . "What time is it?"

Ziva glanced at the clock. "1648"

Tony gave her a shocked look. "What DAY is it?"

"Monday."

"Oh, man," Tony moaned. "The last thing I remember is us watching a movie Saturday night."

"You do not remember anything since," Ziva replied, a bit disappointed.

Tony caught her tone immediately. "Why? What did I do?"

"It is nothing," she said.

"Ziva..."

"No, it is okay. We will talk about it later. Right now, you must be hungry. I will go fix us something to eat," she said, climbing out of bed.

"Hey, why are you wearing my clothes?" Tony asked.

"Because you threw up all over mine. Twice."

"Sorry about that," Tony grimaced.

"You owe me two blouses, one pair of slacks and a new pair of shoes," Ziva informed him wryly as she walked towards the kitchen.

"Tell you what. This weekend I'll take you clothes shopping. I'll buy you whatever you want."

"Careful," she replied. "I may hold you to that."

"Worth every penny," he said under his breath, watching her walk away. Damn, she made those boxers look sexy. "Hey, what are you going to wear home?"

"I did some laundry last night. I have clean clothes. They just have some ugly stains on them. You're buying me dinner too. Some place nice."

"By 'nice', you mean 'expensive', right," Tony asked. "I don't suppose Feldman's Deli counts as 'nice'?"

"You throw up on my clothes and expect to get off with an Orange Almond Salad?" Ziva scolded him.

"Didn't you say they make the best Tuna wraps in town?" Tony countered.

Ziva appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding a 8" cook's knife in her right hand. "As tempting as that is, DiNozzo, you're not getting off that easy."

"No harm in asking," Tony said weakly.

"How does a pasta salad with soup and crackers sound," Ziva asked.

"Fine, if you're a vegan. I want meat. Lots of it," Tony replied. "I think there's a steak in the freezer, if you don't mind. And, a baked potato with all the toppings. There's some garlic bread in the freezer, too."

Ziva snorted and shook her head. "What would monsieur like to drink with that?"

Tony blinked at the question. "I think there's some tea bags in the pantry."

Ziva nodded. She was grateful he hadn't said anything about the numerous bottles of wine and beer in the fridge. "Hurry up and get cleaned up. You stink," she ordered, brandishing the knife with a flourish.

"Yes, dear. Of course, dear. Dearest is always right," Tony said sarcastically.

Sarcasm was not on the menu today, apparently, as Ziva ran back into the bedroom, knife held high. Tony let out a startled shout and scampered as best he could towards the bathroom. He pressed his body against the door while Ziva banged on the door and swore bloody (and violent) revenge. He grinned happily. Despite her grisly threats, he could hear the humor in her voice.

Shortly, after Ziva's evil threats had subsided and she'd gone back to the kitchen to prepare dinner, Tony looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He had a three-day beard, looked like he hadn't eaten in days (most likely true) and still had a mild case of the shakes. _Come on, DiNozzo, you can do this,_ he thought. _You can't let her down again._

Although it wasn't the type of revenge Ziva had in mind, it suited her purpose quite nicely. And if Mother Nature had helped her come up with the plan, so much the better. Two cats with one stone. No, birds. Two birds with one stone.

Tony stood in the shower stall rinsing off the soap and shampoo when he heard a rather distinctive sound. Someone was using the toilet. "Ziva?" he called out. He couldn't see what was going on but there was only one person it could be. She wouldn't dare. Would she?

_Flush._

Tony yelped aloud as the water temperature suddenly changed. "ZIVA!!"

"Sorry," she replied in a lighthearted, yet deceptively innocent tone, standing outside the shower. "But when you have to go, you have to go." She ran the tip of her tongue across her top teeth as she regarded him. Definitely a five-star ass.

Tony bit back several choice comments. He was, after all, standing naked in the shower while Ziva was probably armed with who knows how many weapons. "No problem, sweet cheeks," he replied in a forced, yet cheerful tone. "Next time, a little warning. If you don't mind."

"No promises," Ziva replied.

Shortly, Ziva, now dressed in her own clothes, looked up from the stove to see Tony, clad in his favorite Ohio State sweatshirt and pants, walk towards the small room where the pantry and washer and dryer were located. He carried the dirty bed linen in his arms. She smiled at the pure domestic scene. Her cooking dinner. Him doing laundry. When the washing machine was running, she reminded him, "The trash is pretty full, Tony."

"Yeah, I see," he replied, pulling the full trash bag from the trash can. He tied off the bag and replaced it with a fresh bag. "Be right back," he said, feeling her eyes on him as he left to dump the trash. Outside, he smiled at what had just happened. _Did we just have a Ozzy and Harriet moment?_

When Tony walked back in, he went straight to the kitchen. The steak smelled ambrosial and Ziva stood off to one side of the stove, preparing a salad. The timer on the stove showed another twenty minutes before the baked potatoes would be ready. He saw a pitching of ice tea brewing on the counter. He didn't give it a second glance instead, he opened the fridge looking for something stronger to drink. All he saw to drink was few bottles of wine and a twelve-pack of beer. He stared long at the bottles, deciding which to drink. His spidey-sense went off and he looked up to see Ziva staring at him with a very worried look. "Right," he sighed. "This has to end." He reached into the fridge and began pulling out all the wine and beer bottles and set them on the counter next to the sink. Then, he reached up into a cupboard and pulled down two bottles of scotch, one full, the other half-empty, and set them next to the other bottles.

One by one, he opened each bottle and poured its contents down the drain. Ziva walked towards the pantry and returned with a trash bag, which she opened up and held for him. He placed each of the now empty bottles in the bag. When he finished putting all the bottles in the trash bag, Tony closed the bag and left to throw the bottles away.

Ziva sighed in relief when Tony left to dump the bottles. She checked the steak while she waited on Tony to return. It was a great cut of beef, one she looked forward to eating. It was not exactly kosher but, after the last few days, she didn't care. Ziva walked back to the refrigerator and opened the freezer section. She hummed a soft tune as she took out the frozen garlic bread, placed four slices on a cookie sheet and place that in the over with the baked potatoes. With a little luck, everything would be ready at the same time.

Tony walked back in then and smiled at the homeyness of Ziva fixing dinner in his apartment. He wondered if she realized she was humming to herself while she fixed dinner. "Honey, I'm home."

Ziva rolled her eyes and carefully hid a smile. A memory from the day before relived itself and she frowned slightly. She caught Tony's concerned look and shook her head. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, frowning. "Did I say something wrong?"

"It's nothing, Tony," she replied. "Go wash up. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

Knowing better than to argue with her, Tony headed to the bedroom and quickly cleaned up. When he returned, he found her finishing the tea preparation. He reached into different cupboards and drawers and began pulling plates and silverware out for dinner. Gathering the silverware and plates, he set the dinner table and then headed back to the kitchen where Ziva handed him a large bowl filled with the salad she'd prepared. Tony grabbed a salad fork from a drawer and a couple of small plates. He looked in the fridge for salad dressing. "All I've got is some ranch dressing. Is that OK?"

"That's fine," she said smiling.

As he finished setting the table, Tony stopped and looked over at Ziva. He shook his head, chuckling.

"What is so funny?" she asked.

"It's nothing," he replied. "We're having dinner at my place and you're doing all the work. It feels good, you know?" He trailed off, looking over at her. She seemed to feel the same way but said nothing.

Dinner passed uneventfully. Tony complimented Ziva on her cooking which she graciously accepted. She had been somewhat surprised at how well equipped his kitchen had been. But then, considering how many women he had probably entertained over the years, she realized she shouldn't have been. Ziva found herself rather unexpectedly squashing a brief spurt of jealousy.

"What are we going to do," asked Ziva, after taking a bite of her steak. "We can't keep going on like this."

Tony pushed his plate away and placed his elbows against the edge of the table. He rested his chin on fists and thought about the situation. "If I'm going to get through, I'm probably going to need some professional help."

"True," Ziva admitted. "But, how can you do this without NCIS finding out? You're in enough trouble as it is."

"I know a guy," Tony said.

"You know a guy?" Ziva snapped waspishly. "Tony, this is not one of your movies. You just don't go into therapy, have a miraculous breakthrough and go on with your life. I've known other Mossad agents who've fallen prey to alcoholism. You never want to stop drinking."

"Ziva, I'm not that far gone," Tony admitted. "I know a therapist, Steve Bannister, that I went to college with. He owes me a few favors. He'll keep it off the books if I ask."

"That is good," she said.

"I think you should go with me," Tony stated.

"What?"

"Let's face facts, Ziva. I'm a mess and you're a wreck. No matter how much progress we've made, there are still some deep issues we need to confront."

Ziva grasped her steak knife tightly, her visage growing grim. She looked at him and saw his concern. Her inner demons scoffed at the idea. She was Mossad. There was nothing she couldn't handle. She survived Somalia, she could survive this.

"I know what you're thinking," Tony said, taking her other hand in his. "You're Mossad. Your a tough-as-nails butt-kicking ninja. But, you're only human, Ziva. And humans have their limits. If we want to move past all the pain, we're going to need to work through it together. As partners."

Ziva tightened her grip on the knife for a moment, her face set in stone. She was Mossad. She was human. She was Mossad. "Make the call," she finally said.

Tony grabbed his cellphone, looked for a phone number and dialed it. "Hey, bean ball, it's Tony DiNozzo. How are you? … Yeah, I'm fine. Well, mostly. Look I need some help. Your professional help, to be precise. … Well, it's not something I want to talk about over the phone. … Well, my partner and I have had a bit of a rough time lately and we've decided to get some professional help. … Yeah, I know, it's a long time coming. … Look, there's one thing. This needs to be completely off the books. … Yeah, it's that serious. … No, we can't come by during business hours. … Evenings are the only time we're going to be available, provided we're not working a case. … 8PM tomorrow night?" Tony looked over at Ziva, who nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. … Yeah, I've got your address. … Great. See you then."

"Well," Ziva said as she picked up her dishes and headed towards the kitchen.

"Well," Tony said, grabbing his dishes and following her into the kitchen. Together, they do the dishes. She washes and he dries them before placing them in the dish rack. Each doing their part silently.

After dinner, they sat down and began to clean things up. The apartment itself was still something of a mess. They had cleaned up much of the trash over the weekend before Tony's symptoms began to get worse. However, the floor needed to be vacuumed and there were various smaller pieces of trash to be picked up and thrown away.

Tony plopped down on the couch, feeling somewhat exhausted after the exertion. He hadn't done much but the last few days had left him in a weakened state. Something he hated. He glanced over at Ziva as she sat down at the opposite end of the couch and dialed a number on her cellphone. "Who are you calling?"

"Gibbs"

Tony shuddered at what was going to happen next. Gibbs hadn't said much to express his disapproval of Tony's worsening condition. Having two members of his team miss two full days of work probably had not set well with him. "Let's get this over with," Tony ceded.

"Gibbs," Ziva heard when the other phone picked up.

"Gibbs, it's Ziva. I just wanted to let you know that Tony and I will be returning to work tomorrow," she informed her boss. She braced herself for what he was going to say next.

"How is he?"

"He's passed the worst of it. Ducky's assistance Saturday was most valuable. I was able to help Tony get through it with minimal difficulty," she told Gibbs. "He's still a little weak but we just finished having dinner and he appears fine. With more rest and food, he should be fine soon."

"And his problem?" Gibbs asked.

"We have talked about it. He has a friend who can help him with it," Ziva told him. "He may also be able to me with mine," she confessed.

"I see."

"It will be strictly off the books. No one outside the three of us need know," Ziva urged.

"Do what you have to do," Gibbs said. "I need you two back at 100% asap."

"Yes, Gibbs. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You two have a lot of issues to work out and it's not going to be easy," he said sagely. "Things may get worse before they straighten themselves out."

Ziva sighed, acknowledging the truth. "I'm afraid you may be right."

"OK. See you two in the morning," Gibbs said before hanging up.

"Gibbs is expecting us both back in the morning," Ziva informed Tony, who nodded.

"Look, I can handle the rest of the cleanup here. You should probably go home. I'm sure you have plenty to do there," said Tony. "You've got to be tired of nursing me by now."

"You are such a handful, DiNozzo," Ziva quipped. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Okay, let me grab my clothes and I will be going."

A moment later, Ziva stood in the front doorway, her clothes on hangars. The two stared at each other for a moment. Finally, Ziva moved closer to him and kissed him lightly on each cheek. "Remember, DiNozzo's are strong. They bend but they don't break."

"Where'd you hear that?" he wondered aloud.

"You told me. Yesterday morning, when things were at their worst."

"_To da_, Officer David," Tony said sincerely.

"_Prego_, Agent DiNozzo," Ziva said, smiling. She gave him a once over, nodded and then left.

Tony sat down on the couch trying to evaluate his life. He loved Ziva. He loved his job. The two weren't incompatible. Ziva was an excellent investigator. Beautiful, smart, sexy. No one had ever challenged him the way she did. Why couldn't he just man-up and tell her how he felt?

He glanced over at his grandfather's desk. The heavy wooden desk was one of his more prized possessions. He was the third generation of DiNozzo to sit and work at it. It was then he noticed the open drawer in the hutch. Not just any drawer. THE drawer. He walked over to the desk and looked into the empty drawer. It was gone. Another of his family's prized heirlooms. Tony paused for a moment to consider the implications. It had been there last week but now was not. It could only mean one thing. He cursed himself for not remembering something so important. Damn, he needed a drink. He opened the bottom right drawer and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He set it on the desktop and stared at it intently.

Outside, in her car, Ziva reached into her purse and pulled out a small jewelry box. She timidly opened it and gazed somberly at the exquisite engagement ring inside. Ziva looked back up at Tony's apartment window. She thought about all the things he'd said during the withdrawal. Some had been so very tender. Things which had given her hope of a brighter future for them both. Others, sparked by the darkness in his heart and fueled by the pain he tried so hard to hide, had been less. Mostly, she wondered if he would remember proposing to her.

Ziva closed the jewelry box lid and placed the box back in her purse. She looked once more back up at his apartment, then started her car and drove home.


End file.
